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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934912">neither calm nor quiet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/pseuds/delimeful'>delimeful</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Delimeful's Bad Things Happen Bingo Fills [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Selkies, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, M/M, Meet-Cute, Minor Violence, Misunderstandings, Past Abuse, Selkies, Trapped in a Net, but like in a 'just found a corpse on the beach' sort of way, mentioned domestic violence, mild strangulation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:48:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934912</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/pseuds/delimeful</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil's first voyage back on land in years starts off no-good and swiftly takes a turn for the horrible. </p><p>After being 'rescued' by a local columnist, however, he finds the beginning of something not-entirely-awful.</p><p>-</p><p>BTHB: Trapped in a Net</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Delimeful's Bad Things Happen Bingo Fills [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>neither calm nor quiet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>When Virgil finally decided to brave shallower waters, it had already been nearly half a moon cycle since Logan had vanished.</p></div><div class=""><p>He’d made excuses at first, telling himself that the dread he felt was just his normal brand of overwrought paranoia. For the first few days, he was half-convinced that his curiosity-prone friend would appear at any moment, probably lugging some sort of stray litter or ‘interesting human artifact’ along with him to explain why he’d been late.</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>Things would be normal again. Virgil would find some rocks for them to sun on and Logan would ramble on about the potential uses of his find, and maybe Virgil would teasingly suggest some outlandish way the trash was secretly a violent human weapon, just to hear Logan thoroughly refute it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After another three days passed with no sign of the other selkie, Virgil was forced to let that fantasy fade. Logan had never been this late before, not even that time he’d managed to carry an entire minifridge along with him for Virgil to identify.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something had to have happened to him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d spent the next week scouring the currents for any sign of his missing friend, even approaching other pods and asking around, requesting that they keep an eye out for any signs of Logan. He didn’t expect much from that; the two of them didn’t socialize with other selkies often enough to make any friends, and their two-person pod was too small to spare any food during winter, so there was nothing for the other pods to gain by helping them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil knew better than most how selfish pod politics could be.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Every few days, he would return to their meeting spot and catch a few hours of sleep to keep himself from crashing, always naively hoping that Logan would be there when he woke. He never was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the end, he had to face what he’d already known from the beginning: either Logan was dead, or he’d gone onland and gotten himself bound by a human.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He didn’t want to believe Logan had decided to brave the human world even after Virgil’s many, <em>many</em> warnings against it, but believing the alternative was even worse. So, he steeled himself to do the one thing he’d sworn to never do again, and headed for the cold, rocky shores of the nearest human settlement.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Naturally, he spent so long swimming back and forth between different stretches of beach, trying to force himself to take those literal first steps, that he didn’t notice the woven fibers dancing in the water until he’d plowed right into them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A fishing net, dyed skillfully to blend in with the water, and large enough that when he tried to twist out of it, he only became further entangled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Panic set in, then, clouding his mind and leaving him thrashing ineffectively like a simple animal. He couldn’t help it-- he couldn’t breathe underwater in either form, had no gills to keep him steady as he was dragged along by the current. He couldn’t untangle himself while adrift, couldn’t find solid ground while tangled. He would drown.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Between one blink and the next, he found himself in open air, gritty sand pressed against his face. Waves crested gently around him, a sharp contrast to the headache pounding around in his skull.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He never thought he’d be relieved about blacking out and beaching himself, but then, he’d never been worried about drowning in his own element before.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Okay. There weren’t any humans around to see the stupid idiot seal stuck on the beach. This was still salvageable.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Taking a deep breath, he attempted to bite through the netting with his incisors, and got a mouthful of sore gums for his trouble. The dyed fibers seemed to be woven around a base net of fishing wire, because of course they were. He let his head thunk back to the sandy ground, groaning at the new surge of pain the motion caused.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sun-warmed saltwater continued to wash over his tail, and he blinked slowly, measuring his breaths. He could figure this out. He wouldn’t dry out. He just needed a moment to put himself back together. He could… He…</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyelids grew heavy, and everything went dark.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roman thought the guy was a pile of garbage at first, to be quite honest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Not on purpose, of course! But, come on, when one sees a mound of mystery washed up on shore, it generally ends up being a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around half-rotted driftwood, not a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around beautiful strangers wearing expensive-looking fur coats!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His next thought, once he’d gotten closer, was that the beautiful stranger wearing the expensive-looking fur coat was <em>dead</em>, and that a<em> body </em>had washed up on his little strip of shoreline. Pallid skin, blue lips, and deep shadows under their eyes-- the beautiful stranger wasn’t exactly giving off an aura of vim and vigor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d spent a few moments staring at his contact list, trying to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do about a body. Should he call 911? … Should he call <em>Remus?</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before he could make a decision either way, he finally picked up on the shallow rise and fall of the beautiful stranger’s chest, and realized that they were still alive! Potentially not for much longer, laying out in the cold all soggy like that, but Roman could work with mostly alive!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And so, he found himself here, carefully carrying the small but surprisingly dense stranger up to his home by the cliffs, and risking looking like a total serial killer doing it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He couldn’t help but theorize as he walked. A beautiful stranger in expensive clothing, tangled in nets with what appeared to be a head wound… It read like an old unsolved case in a detective novel, where the mysterious stranger in question got in too deep with some dangerous people and ended up clubbed over the head and dumped into a river to tie up loose ends.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Except you managed to survive, obviously,” Roman said to them, mostly to reassure himself. He really had to stop eavesdropping on Remus’s true crime podcasts. “And you made your way to me! Excellent choice, I’m great at nursing people back to health. Probably. I don’t have much practical experience, but, you know, I’ve read extensively about this exact thing. In romance novels. As one does.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The beautiful and mysterious stranger continued to be unconscious. Roman was starting to feel grateful for it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His house was empty, thankfully, since his brother had work to attend to today. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before pushing the door open and carrying the stranger inside, sighing with relief at the warm air.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s got to feel much better, hm?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sat the stranger down in the foyer, removing his shoes to go grab some scissors from the kitchen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“First order of business,” he announced in his best announcer voice, “getting all that netting off of you. While I’m sure you could rock fishnet leggings, fish nets on their own just don’t have the same <em>je ne sais quoi</em>, you know? Also, they look very uncomfortable. You’re great at staying still, so just keep that up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He carefully cut his way through the looser parts of netting, pulling it off piece by piece until all that was left were the abrasions where they’d formerly cut into skin. Roman had no idea how they’d even managed to get that tangled up, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It couldn’t have been pretty.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the process of removing the net, however, he’d noticed another rather pressing matter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Going by the flash of thigh he’d accidentally witnessed while shifting the net around, the stranger definitely wasn't wearing anything under that fur coat of theirs. Like, <em>nothing.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>(Exactly what kind of situation had the stranger been in before this?!)</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even so, leaving them in a sodden coat couldn’t be good for their constitution. Or his poor couch’s upholstery.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roman spent a few moments puzzling the situation out before coming up with a brilliant solution. He retrieved the fluffy gold comforter from his bed and draped it over the stranger, covering their front half with it. Then, he carefully worked their arms out of the coat’s sleeves, very pointedly not focusing on the adorable freckled shoulders this operation revealed. Finally, he tugged the entire coat out from behind them, wincing at the slight furrow that appeared in their brow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry, sorry, I know the cold floor can’t be comfortable…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Soggy coat removed, he was free to continue bundling the rest of the comforter around the stranger’s back, therefore making it easy for him to pick them up in a neat little bundle of blanket and deposit them on the couch. No nudity awkwardness required!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pleased with his solution, he draped a fluffy towel over the stranger’s head and carefully dried some of the dampness from their hair. Next, he wasted no time in stoking the fire higher in his hearth, sending waves of warmth into the room and making it so the stranger’s skin didn’t look quite so clammy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Once he’d cleaned up the mess left in the foyer and grabbed the first aid kit from under his sink, he planted himself in a chair next to the couch, feeling ready to handle anything.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, Google. How do I treat a head wound?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil felt as though he’d woken to a nightmare.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was in the wrong body, surrounded on all sides by heavy fabric and warm air, and his <em>coat</em> was <em>missing</em>. That list of facts alone was just about as bad as any night terror he’d had.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The humming was unusual, though.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A soft tune, occasionally broken up by a half-muttered lyric or two, carried through the air, voice completely at ease. His mother had never sung to him in front of others, and it sure as hell wasn’t his father.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tried to remember where he’d been last. The back of his head stung… he’d ended up on a beach? The tide had been turning, from high to low… He must have dried out up there, changed into his less durable form. And now he was warm and dry.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He clenched his fists weakly and grit his teeth, knowing that a human had found him and stolen him away. Just like his mother. He’d come to find Logan and lost himself before ever even starting. Typical.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you with us, Sleeping Beauty?” a bright voice asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The humming had broken off while he was absorbed in his thoughts, and now he could hear the shift and rustle of movement next to him. He opened his eyes, already aiming the coldest possible glare at his captor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was sort of surprised to find that the human sitting at his side wasn’t holding his coat. His father used to make a point of handling his mother’s coat at any opportunity. He’d liked to watch his mother stare at it, resting assured that so long as he held it in his possession, she could do him no harm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This human was much younger than his father had been, probably around as old as Virgil was now. He had dark skin and soft eyes that reflected the firelight, and he was smiling hopefully at Virgil.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hello there! It’s excellent to see you looking a little more lively! I was starting to think about <em>actually</em> calling the hospital, heh.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wordlessly, Virgil slowly shifted to sit up, shoving the thick blanket out and shaking the cloth from his head. He looked down, confirming what he already knew. No coat. The human hadn’t even bothered to dress him up in human trappings to ‘make up’ for the absence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah, yeah... I sort of basically pulled you out of the ocean and what little you were wearing was completely <em>soaked.</em>” The human rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I figured it’d be less of an invasion of privacy to just let you get dressed yourself once you woke up?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Oh, the <em>human</em> was worried about his <em>privacy? </em>What a joke.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, truly!” the human continued, oblivious to Virgil’s rising ire. He gave a mocking little bow, pretending to respect the one he’d <em>abducted</em>. “My sincerest apologies.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was done playing along with mind games like these. Better to let the human know where they stood right off the bat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m going to kill you,” Virgil promised, and then lunged for the human’s jugular.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>To his genuine surprise, he actually made contact, hands clamping onto the junction between collar and throat. The human let out a high-pitched yelp as his chair toppled over, taking both of them with it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Virgil landed knee-first on the human’s sternum, and paused to blink down at the wheezing stranger, who apparently had been so confident in the weakness of his victim that he hadn’t bothered to bind Virgil from harming him in advance.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Unless.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His grip loosened slightly, just in time for the human’s fist to catch him squarely in the mouth. He threw himself backwards, rolling with the force of the motion to get some distance and hunkering in a crouch. It had been too long since he’d been active in this form, his sense of balance was in shambles.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The human scrambled to his feet, and grabbed the back of the chair, eyes wild. He thrust it out between them like a barrier, as though it could prevent any more strangulation attempts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is<em> wrong with you?!</em>” he shrieked, voice cracking as his gaze flickered back and forth between Virgil and some far off point. “I <em>tenderly nursed you back to health,</em> and your response is to try and <em>murder me?</em> Unfair! Cruel! <em>Rude!</em>”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where is my coat?” Virgil replied, voice hoarse and split lip stinging. A test, because humans were tricky and loved to lie.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Your— your coat?” The human pulled up short, head tilting slightly in a bewildered manner. A convincing actor, if nothing else. “Is that what all this is about? I put it on the coat hanger to dry! I know better than to try and wash someone’s fancy fur coat without permission, yeesh.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A low warning growl in the back of his throat, Virgil turned his gaze from the current threat and followed the gesture the human had made.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sure enough, there it was. His freedom, draped on a peg in the open with all the rest of the human’s fabric outer layers like some common garment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you… want me to get it— eep!” The human lifted the chair back up in paltry defense as Virgil snarled at him. He rose up and crossed the distance to his pelt in five wobbly strides, before the human could try and return it to him and lock them both into a loveless marriage.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he quickly wrapped his second skin around him, that grounding weight settling back where it belonged. He still couldn’t shift back, not here, but the ocean was close enough to taste in the air.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The human was still huddled defensively by the fireplace, looking indignantly bewildered and not at all like he knew he’d just given up the perfect opportunity to control Virgil.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Which meant that-- barring some incredibly convoluted scheme-- he really had no idea. And Virgil <em>had</em> tried to strangle him, even if under false pretenses. He drew the edges of his pelt closer around him, rolling the beginnings of an apology around in his mind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The mysterious stranger was still glaring at Roman like they were contemplating continuing to try and strangle him to death at any moment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d brought a half-drowned stranger into his home and tenderly treated their injuries, and what had he received in return for his efforts? A murder attempt, which now that he thought about it was maybe an outcome he should have considered earlier. Remus would never let him live this down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Assuming he lived long enough for his brother to give him shit about it, that was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The stranger seemed to at least be a little calmer now that their reclaimed coat was thoroughly wrapped around them, rendering them more lump-shaped than person. Roman felt much more secure in glaring back, too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He set his impromptu shield/chair down firmly on the floor. “I have no idea what <em>your</em> problem is, Gloomy B. Jones, but where I’m from, the response to someone saving you from dying of hypothermia is ‘thank you’, not a strangulation attempt!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The murderglare intensified. “I didn’t ask for your help.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes,” Roman said, disbelieving, “because you were too busy being unconscious. On the beach. In 40-below temperatures!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s my problem, not yours,” the stranger responded snappishly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roman threw his hands in the air, but his impending frustrated rant was impeded by the sight of a stifled flinch running through the stranger. Feeling a stab of guilt, he lowered his arms slowly before continuing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It seems I made it my problem when I dragged your soggy self all the way to my house, so--”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Great news for you, then: I’m leaving.” Baring their teeth in a distinctly unfriendly manner, the stranger turned to do just that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hold it!” Roman called, alarmed. “You’re going into town like that?! People will think you’re a flasher!” Even his brother wouldn’t go out dressed in nothing but an oversized coat. ... Probably.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The stranger paused, squinting at him warily. Roman took it as a cue to continue.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot here. <em>Several</em> wrong feet. Let’s try again. I’m Roman Faroe, I work for the local newspaper, and you are…?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“None of your business,” replied the stranger, with all the stubborn petulance of a toddler digging their heels in and refusing to move whilst smack dab in the middle of an overcrowded supermarket.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Would you like me to call you ‘Almost-Corpse-I-Dragged-Off-The-Beach?’ Perhaps make up a thematic nickname or two for you? Because let me tell you, this is exactly how you get called--,”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hold on,” the stranger cut him off, a realization seeming to dawn on him, “did you say you worked for the news?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, I mean, the newspaper not the news. Although I’m sure I’d make an excellent anchor,” Roman gestured to all of himself for effect, “my true passion lies in my carefully curated romantic advice column!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, you get all the information in town,” continued the stranger, who had a strange glint in their eye.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I mean, if you want to be a nerd about it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How about this.” The stranger stepped forward, straightening out of their defensive slouch for the explicit purpose of being just tall enough to loom over Roman. “You want to know my name? I’ll tell you, <em>if</em> you help me track down something important that I lost.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>An investigative quest for a mysterious MacGuffin? Roman swallowed, feeling his heart flutter wildly with what felt less like intimidation and more like excitement. He could totally keep his cool, he just had to open his mouth and say something suave.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I also want to know your origin story,” he opened his mouth and babbled instead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The stranger narrowed their eyes for a moment, and Roman belatedly remembered the near-strangulation. Perhaps he shouldn't be agitating a femme fatale type, what with all the emphasis on the <em>fatale</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>To his surprise, it only took a moment before they capitulated, sticking a hand out. “Fine. <em>After </em>my thing gets done.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Roman shook gladly, trying not to shiver at the cool touch. Had they checked to make sure the stranger wasn’t hypothermic yet? “It’s a deal, then.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Great.” They twisted on their heel, stalking to the door. “Let’s get this over with, already.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hold on there, Surly Temple.” Roman called, hand on his hip. “I hate to break it to you, but if you go into town mostly naked, the only news we’ll be hearing about will be your immediate arrest.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The stranger glanced down at his attire, and then released the door handle with a low sigh. “... Pants first?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Pants first.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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